


Darling

by ultradaniblonde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Ghouls, Protective Dean Winchester, Suicide Attempt, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultradaniblonde/pseuds/ultradaniblonde
Summary: John Winchester finds you locked in a bathroom after your parents turn into vampires. What happens when you have no one left?





	1. Chapter 1

Sam, Dean and John climb out of the pristine ’67 Chevy Impala. John opens the trunk revealing an impressive weapons cache. He overlooks the multitude of guns and grabs a machete. Handing Sam the smallest of the three, he grabs two more passing one to Dean. As he closes the trunk, he glances around the neighborhood. The sky, a beautiful blue without a cloud in sight, is a stark contrast to the grisly scene just behind the front door.

The three men keep their weapons concealed as they approach the house. John tests the knob and discovers the door unlocked. He silently signals to the boys seconds before they storm the house. The front door opens with a bang waking the nest of vampires in the midst of their sleep. Sam locks the front door as Dean quickly decapitates one of the four vampires, a middle aged man. Sam squares off with a woman, who lunges for him over an armchair. She doesn’t clear the chair and ends up hunched over it. She raises her head and snarls at Sam just as he brings his machete down in a smooth arc over her neck.

John struggles with the two remaining vampires, dressed in police uniforms with protective vests, his powerful punches don’t have the typical effect. He slams one vamp back against the wall. “Dean!” John shouts. Dean spins around pinning the vampire to the wall with his shoulder while avoiding its fangs. He lands a blow to its knee before taking a step back and slicing off its head. “Dad!” Dean yells as John gives the vampire a shove before Dean swings his machete severing its head.

Sam, Dean and John scan the empty room. It is a quintessential one-story brick ranch. The wallpaper is streaked with drops of blood that drip down the walls. John sighs deeply before noticing a closed door. There are only supposed to be four vampires, but in this business being sloppy could cost you your life. Or worse. He eyes the layout of the living room trying to estimate the size of the room behind the closed door. John tests the knob and mutters “Wait,” to Sam and Dean. At twelve and sixteen Sam and Dean are big. Years ago when Sam received a cut to the upper arm during a hunt, John and the boys became more tactical. John enters first forcing whatever monster is inside out where Sam and Dean put it down.

John kicks the door in with a loud crack and splintering of wood. The room is a small guest bathroom. A young girl sits on the floor hugging her knees to her chest. Her clothes are bloody and tattered. John approaches her slowly unable to determine if she’s been turned.

He takes another cautious step into the bathroom and in seconds she is on her feet. She is holding a kitchen steak knife in her right hand. Her green eyes stare at him wide eyed. She glances at the knife adjusting the grip in her hand so it points inward and brings it forcefully towards her chest.

“NO!” John yells dropping his machete and grabbing her forearm forcing it away from her body. “Drop it,” he says overpowering her. “DROP IT!” he shouts before squeezing her arm forcing her to release her hold on the knife. She takes a step, her back hitting the bathroom wall before sinking to the floor sobbing.

 _Fuck,_ John thinks to himself. He stares down at the girl unsure how long she has been trapped in the bathroom. Vamps are the most vicious types of monsters, playing mind games with their victims’ emotions, tormenting them the way a cat plays with a mouse before devouring it. She has the same blonde hair as the middle-aged vampire Sam put down minutes earlier. Those vamps were her parents. She must have called the police when they turned, trying to protect herself. Cops can’t protect her from monsters. John picks up his machete and holsters it before crouching down. He awkwardly positions his arm under her knees and lifts her supporting her back with his other arm. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards his chest. What feels like minutes to John is actually seconds. Sam and Dean stand anxiously at the entrance of the bathroom watching their dad emerge with a small lifeless form. Dean looks down at her his brow furrowed in confusion. “Their daughter,” John says making his way towards the front door. Sam opens the door before John walks over the threshold. Dean follows him closing the door behind him with a click.

Dean speeds the entire drive back to the motel sporadically glancing at the girl convulsing in John’s arms. John sits in the front seat staring vacantly at the road barely registering the trembling fourteen-year-old girl soaked in blood sitting in his lap. She keeps her eyes closed and they manage to subtlety move her from Baby inside. The motel room is like every other room they have rented in countless states: two queen beds, a small kitchenette and a bathroom with barely enough hot water.

“Sammy, get some clean clothes for her,” John says gruffly walking towards the bathroom. Sam begins rummaging around in his bag trying to find sweatpants that won’t engulf her small frame. He pulls out a clean t-shirt that is getting too small for him, a pair of sweatpants that have elastic at the bottom and a pair of thick socks.

“Dean,” John says with a grave tone. Dean looks at his dad wordlessly waiting for his orders. “Take Sam and go back to the house. Clean it up,” John says sternly.

“Yes, sir,” Dean says turning towards Sam. “Ready?” he asks as Sam lays the fresh clothes on one of the beds. “Ready,” he answers as they head towards the door. John glances down at her motionless form and exhales deeply. He walks into the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bathtub. He tries not to jostle the girl while reaching over to turn on the hot water. The bathtub begins to fill and he steels himself for what he has to do next. He sets her on the bathroom counter and gently holds her upright to keep her from toppling over. She’s opened her eyes, but they stare blankly through John not registering where she is or what has happened. Realizing he doesn’t know her name, he looks down at her and says “Darling?” hesitantly.

She continues to stare vacantly at the dust floating through the air. “Darling, listen to me. You are in shock and your clothes are soaked in blood. I need to get you cleaned up. Can you undress yourself and get in the tub?” John asks leaning down to look into her eyes. Nothing. He clenches his jaw relieved he sent Sam and Dean away. “I need to get you out of those clothes. They are covered in blood that isn’t yours and you are in shock. I swear on my life you are safe here. Please just look at me,” he says desperately.

At the slight crack in his voice her gaze moves an infinitesimal amount towards his face. She stares at him saying nothing and John prays a part of her subconscious understands he is not a threat.

She doesn’t fall over when he removes his hands from her shoulders. He purposefully shows her his hands despite her blank expression. He moves his hands towards the collar of her short-sleeved yellow button down and lightly unbuttons her shirt careful not to brush his fingers against her any more than necessary. He slowly eases it off of her shoulders and sets it to the side.

“Come on,” he says placing her arm around his shoulder lifting her from the bathroom counter onto her feet. When he is sure she can stand on her own he takes a deep breath and says, “I am going to take off your pants. If you come back to me, squeeze my shoulder and I will stop. You can’t stay covered in blood,” he says slowly. He crouches down his large hands struggling with the small button of her jeans. He slides them down to her ankles and gently lifts her leg to remove them completely.

 _Almost there,_ John says to himself. Gooseflesh breaks out along her skin. John looks around the bathroom wondering how he is going to manage getting her undressed and into the tub. He positions her between him and the shower with her back towards him.

He unhooks her bra and it slides off easily over her shoulders. He stares at her back trying to remember the last time he felt so uncomfortable. _Man up, John_ he scolds himself. He swiftly pulls her underwear down and then picks her up gently lowering her into the warm water.

He turns around picking up her bloodied clothes and tossing them into the garbage. He hears the soft rustle of water and peels the shower curtain back an inch. He hoped the warm water would ease her out of shock, but she continues to sit in the water hugging her knees to her chest.

He runs his hand over his face and considers leaving her in the warm water until he notices streaks of blood on the back of her arms. _Damnit_. He grabs a small bar of motel soap and wets a washcloth in the warm water. He washes her arms, legs, and back before the water begins to cool and she starts shivering. Helping her stand, John grabs a clean towel and wraps it around her before carrying her to the bedroom. He does his best to pat her skin dry and then quickly dresses her in the clothes Sam laid out. He pulls the covers back, picks her up and sets her in bed. He prays she will close her eyes and go to sleep, but she just keeps staring at him with the same blank expression.

John wakes up in the middle of the night to thrashing. He instantly remembers why there is someone in bed with him and sits up immediately alert. She is tossing and turning erratically all the while limbs flailing. When a fist just misses his face, he quickly crosses the room and grabs an extra blanket from the closet. He lays it on the bed and then picks her up avoiding her blows. He gently holds her arms down surprised at how cold her skin is and wraps her in the blanket. With her arms restrained, he sets her back on the opposite side of the bed ensuring the blanket isn’t too tight. Her breathing becomes deep and she falls back asleep.

Sunlight flits through the blinds as John wakes up to a warm body lightly pressed against his chest. The blanket is only partially wrapped around her and she is inches from him most likely seeking the warmth of his body. He rewraps the blanket around her and gets out of bed heading towards the shower.

Sam, Dean and John sit around the small kitchenette whispering in hushed tones. John went to grab coffee while Sam and Dean dressed and showered. Suddenly, she sits up from the bed blinking staring absently towards the kitchen. Sam turns in his chair while John and Dean stare at her.

“Morning,” Sam says optimistically.

No response.

“She’s in shock Sam,” Dean says condescendingly.

“Enough,” John growls.

He pushes his chair back with a screech and walks towards her. He assesses her conscious state and extends his hand out to her. Her eyes dart over his outstretched fingers. She slides out of bed and takes his hand slowly walking towards the kitchen table. 

She takes a seat, staring out the window.

“I say we take her to Bobby’s,” Dean says staring at his coffee.

“What? She could have family! They could be looking for her right now,” Sam says argumentatively.

“They're not” you say, barely a whisper.

Their faces are frozen in shock.

“They aren’t,” you repeat turning your gaze towards John.

Your eyes bore into him and he is overcome with the realization that if he doesn’t take you with, you will finish what you started in the bathroom.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It has been six months since John Winchester found you locked in the guest bathroom with a steak knife. After coming out of shock, John explained to you he and the boys are hunters. They kill things. They killed your parents, except those things weren’t your parents anymore. You knew that before John came barging into the guest bathroom. You never talk about it, but the day you woke up in that motel room John told Sam and Dean you were coming with them. Before Dean could open his mouth, John said “That’s an order,” and it was final. No discussion. No arguing. It just was.

You spend your life on the road traveling state to state. You didn’t say much the first day you woke up in the motel with the Winchesters and you don’t say much now. Sam, Dean and John continue to hunt. You’ve never asked to go with and they have never asked you to join.

You stand in the kitchenette staring at the small table eyeing the pile of laundry spread across the surface. Socks, t-shirts, boxers and flannel litter the tabletop. You skim through scenes of your life before it became an endless reel of motel rooms. School, friends, family. You test the well of emotions and memories and feel nothing. It is empty, a void where happiness used to live.

Thirty minutes later the stack of laundry is neatly folded and packed away in each hunter’s bag. You don’t bother hanging their shirts or even putting them in the dresser. You need to be ready to leave in a moment’s notice. Traveling with John, there is no time to grab shirts from hangers or empty dresser drawers. You scan the room making sure everything is in its place. Two quick knocks followed by a third puncture the silence. It is the knock John uses to let you know it is him, just another characteristic of living with hunters.  You peak through the eyehole and unfasten the bolt. The Winchesters walk in and set their weapons against the wall next to the door. They are hunting a Wendigo. That’s all you know. You don’t ask and they don’t tell. Dean cuts a path towards one of the queen size beds and falls onto it backwards without even taking his shoes off. Sam sits at the kitchen table sprawled over the surface resting his head on his arm. You can tell it has been long night with nothing to show for it. John stands in the small entryway staring at you. He glances around the room and notices the stack of clean laundry in his open duffel bag.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says with a terse voice.

You stare at him for a few seconds before saying, “I know,” in an even voice.

You wouldn’t have bothered replying, but John hates it when you stare at him blankly without talking. He has never said it, but you can tell it makes him uncomfortable. Sam and Dean don’t seem to mind your prolonged silence. You hear Dean breathing deeply in the adjoining room. Sam pulls himself away from the kitchen table and drags his feet towards the bathroom.

John sits and you open the mini fridge and grab a bottle of water. He lives on coffee and whiskey and you never see him drink any water. You set the bottle of water down on the table.

“Damnit, you know you don’t have to do that,” John reprimands.

You involuntarily wince at the volume of his voice.

“I know,” you say forcefully before turning your back on him and walking to the vacant bed. What John doesn’t understand is you don’t know what to do with yourself since you left your hometown. You don’t know how to occupy your days, how to fill your time, what to do with your hands. Your life has been wrenched away from you and folding laundry, shoving bottles of water at people and reading is the only thing you have left.

You lay on the bed with your book propped on your knees. Your selection is limited to whatever is available at the local grocery store you hit up during supply runs, but anything helps. The night ends the way most nights do. You read while Sam spends the night researching until it is time for bed. John usually showers and then heads to the closest bar as if he can’t stand the silence of the cramped motel room. The lack of activity during the day leaves you restless and you struggle to fall asleep. Eventually the sound of Dean snoring lulls you to bed.

You follow the same routine the next day: make a list of supplies you need, do a load of laundry, and read. John sleeps off his hangover while Sam and Dean talk to townspeople and sort through newspaper articles, archives and databases.

At night the three of them sit around the kitchen table discussing the information Sam and Dean collected and strategizing. Tonight you hear snippets of their conversation. Sam and Dean think they are closing in on the location of the Wendigo. John is anxious to finish the job and move on to the next town.

You watch over the top of your book as they grab their weapons and the keys to Baby. Sam and Dean walk out the door without a backwards glance. John hesitates and turns around. “The knock,” he says sternly.

“I know,” you respond before your eyes shift back to your book and you find where you left off.

Hours pass and you flip through your book checking to see how many chapters you have left. You are glancing at the clock on the nightstand when a loud banging on the door startles you. You walk over to the door checking the eyehole. You see John’s head bobbing in the narrow peephole.

You unlock the door and Sam, Dean and John come stumbling over the threshold. The three of them are covered in blood and your eyes move back and forth trying to figure out whose it is. Dean kicks the door closed behind him. John falls forward onto the carpet while Dean struggles to prop up an unconscious Sam. John rolls onto his back, “Help him,” he says in a strained voice his eyes closed. “Help Sam,” he says struggling to breathe.

Without John’s added weight, Dean picks Sam up and lays him on the table. His head falls to the side. You scan Sam’s upper body and notice claw marks on his chest. His shirt is torn and bloody. Dean stands staring at his brother with a lost expression. You turn and run for the first aid kit. Setting it on the table with a clang, you rip Sam’s shirt open. Three deep slashes mar his skin. His bleeding has temporarily stopped. You delicately probe his injury checking to see if there is anything imbedded in his skin. When you don’t see anything you grab the disinfectant splashing it on his chest dabbing at it with gauze. Dean starts pacing back and forth while you grab the curved sterilized needle and thread it. Patting the area dry one more time you glance at Sam and push his skin together before piercing it with the needle. As you tie off the stitches, you cut more thread and move to the next gouge. Within thirty minutes, all three gashes are sewn shut. You give Dean a hesitant glance as you scan Sam for any other injuries. When you find none, you sink to the floor kneeling next to John as he groans in pain. You unbutton his shirt examining his cuts. They are shallow and have stopped bleeding. The scratches can’t be what is causing him so much pain. Your fingers flutter over his side and you notice deep bruising on his right side. John roars when you gently prod the bruise.

You glance up at Dean. “We need ice,” you tell him.

Dean stares down at John before rushing out the door walking towards the ice machine. John grits his teeth and you reach for the bottle of brown liquor he keeps on top the mini fridge. You unscrew the cap and tilt the bottle pouring a generous amount down his throat. He swallows it and coughs followed by more groaning.

Dean returns with the ice and helps you lift John into a sitting position. You grab a bandage and gingerly wrap a bag of ice around his torso covering the deep purple bruise. You check the bandage making sure it isn’t too tight before sinking back on your legs. Dean eases him back down to the ground and John ceases groaning. You exhale deeply.

Dean stands next to John covered in blood that isn’t his own with an exhausted expression. “You carried them?” you ask while standing from the floor stunned he was able to shoulder the weight of both his dad and brother.

He wraps his arms around you before collapsing from exhaustion bringing you both to your knees. “Dean,” you say urgently. “The bed,” you say shaking him. You help him stand. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and you stagger under his weight. He falls onto the bed indelicately.

After you have arranged his limbs onto the bed, you grab two pillows and light blanket. You lift Sam’s head gently positioning the pillow under it. You cover his lower body with the light blanket. Dean is exhausted and moving Sam could reopen his stitches.

You glance down at John’s massive form encompassing most of the motel room floor. You grab a pillow and lift his head slightly trying to make him more comfortable.

You stare at your bloody hands and begin to shake. Your body begins to convulse. It takes you two tries before you bolt the door and run to the bathroom to scrub the blood from your skin. 


	3. Chapter 3

After the incident with the Wendigo, John told Sam and Dean they were taking a break from hunting. Sam’s stitches look better every day, but you could tell John was rattled. In order to explain the blood soaked towels, John told the motel attendant a wild story about a hunting trip gone wrong. It was oddly similar to the truth, not that the attendant cared after John slid two fifty dollar bills over the counter.

The next day the three of you checked out of the motel and drove to Blue Earth, Minnesota to see Pastor Jim. Upon arriving, John insisted Sam and Dean enroll at the small private high school where Pastor Jim works. As to be expected, Dean didn’t take the news well. Sam was intrigued at the idea of attending school after being on the road for so long. John seemed hesitant when he told you Pastor Jim secured a spot for you too. You knew you should be excited. This could be your chance to try and build a normal life. John obviously trusts Pastor Jim. You could stay with him, finish high school, go to college.

Study. Graduate. Make Friends.

Scenes of a future well within your reach whirl through your mind, but none of it interests you. Your response was a blank, “Okay,” and John nodded, his expression resigned. You were unsure whether his disappointment stemmed from your disinterest in pursuing a normal life or the fact that he was still saddled with you.  

School becomes a mindless routine. The private school is large and you attend mostly overlooked due to your slightly above average grades and good behavior. It should upset you something you loved is now monotonous, but this is your life now. Not a hunter. Not a normal girl. You feel like the distorted reflection of a funhouse mirror.

Days turn into weeks and you realize the four of you have been in Blue Earth for two months. Despite Dean’s initial reluctance, he is very popular. His arrival during the middle of the semester and penchant for fighting has created a bad boy role that he mercilessly exploits. If he didn’t drive you to and from school each day you would be strangers.

You sit in last period taking notes when the bell drowns out your biology teacher, Mr. Lyding. You close your notebook sliding it into your bag and walk towards the hall.

“Darling, I need to discuss something with you,” Mr. Lyding says from the front of the classroom. You eye him dubiously. Dean insists on leaving as soon as possible and won’t be happy.

“Come here please,” Mr. Lyding says while shuffling papers on his desk.

You walk back towards his desk scanning your memory trying to remember if there are any assignments you didn’t submit. You stand in front of his desk as he walks around it and stands very close to you leaning back against it slightly.

“Is something wrong?” you ask in a neutral tone trying mask your eagerness to leave. He is purposely delaying you and the way his body is positioned makes you uncomfortable.   

“I hope not. I am worried about your home life,” he says with a concerned expression.

“My home life?” you ask skeptically wondering what has prompted this conversation.

“Yes. I understand you live with Mr. Winchester, but you aren’t his daughter,” he says with a furrowed brow.

“That’s correct,” you answer shortly. Nobody has asked you about your parents and it isn’t a subject you want to discuss.

“Well, that is worrisome. A beautiful girl your age…” he says dragging his gaze down your body lingering on your chest.

“John is …” you interject.

“John?” he interrupts in a surprised tone his eyes gleaming covetously.

“Right…” you say as you begin to take a small step backwards.

His hand lunges and grabs your forearm. He digs his fingers into your arm just above your elbow as you try and pull away from him.

“Tell me more about John,” he says pulling you off balance crashing against him.

“You are hurting me,” you tell him as he continues to pull you against him.

“I want to know more about you and _John_ ,” he says suggestively.

“Let me go,” you say shocked at what is happening.

You try and twist from his grip but he grabs your wrist and drags your hand down the front of his pants. You feel bile rise in your throat as he forces your hand over the bulge in his pants.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hear Dean ask.

Mr. Lyding immediately releases you. You take a step back rubbing your wrist.

“I was just talking to Miss Darling about an assignment she didn’t turn in,” he says cooly.

You stare at the floor unable to meet Dean’s gaze and in seconds he is in front of Mr. Lyding grabbing the front of his shirt pushing him back against the desk.

“Bullshit,” Dean says.

“Get off of me!” Mr. Lyding shouts.

“Not so fun is it?” Dean says threateningly.

“Dean. We need to go,” you say glancing towards the hall. Someone is going to hear. Dean hasn’t been in any serious trouble, but if he is found assaulting a teacher there will be consequences.

“What do you care? She is just a whor—” Mr. Lyding starts to say before Dean’s fist collides with his face.

“Dean!” you scream pulling at him by the back of the shirt dragging him out of the classroom.

As you both spin towards the exit, you see Pastor Jim and the Principal running over.

_Damnit._

Minutes later you are sitting in the school’s office. You can hear Pastor Jim, Mr. Lyding, and the Principal arguing behind closed doors.

“Talking to her about a late assignment … assaulted in my own classroom... want to press charges,” you hear Mr. Lyding yell angrily.

You wince at the shouting and stare straight ahead. You try not to think about what would have happened if Dean hadn’t come looking for you. You try not to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t dragged Dean away from Mr. Lyding. You try not to remember the last time you were this scared.  You squeeze your eyes shut and cover your ears, but the memories come flooding back.

_The night you opened the front door and found your Mom and Dad, fangs extended and out of their minds with bloodlust_

_Screaming at yourself to move as you stared at them covered in blood and scrambled to the kitchen to grab a knife_

_Struggling against their fierce grip as you stabbed wildly and pushed your way to the guest bathroom locking yourself inside_

_Hearing your parents repeatedly throw themselves against the door as you dialed 911 praying someone would come_

_Crying against the bathroom door when you heard them attack the police officers that responded to your call_

_Trembling while you covered your ears as your parents described the horrific things they were going to do to you before they bled you_

“Darling?” a voice pulls you from your memories. John and Dean stand in front of you watching you with concerned expressions.  

“Darling?” John says softly and in seconds your arms are wrapped around his neck. “John” you say shaking.

“It’s okay,” he whispers wrapping his arms around your back. “You are okay,” he says soothingly.

John turns his head slightly. “Dean, I am taking her home. Stay here. Tell Pastor Jim I will be back. She doesn’t need to be here,” he says walking out of the office.

Your feet dangle just above the tiled floor, but when John tries to set you down you don’t release your hold on his neck. He sighs deeply. “Listen to me, Darling,” he says wrapping his arms around you again. “I am here with you. We aren’t back in the bathroom. You are safe. I need you to walk,” he whispers and then sets you down. Your feet touch the ground and you unwrap your arms from his neck.

“Good girl. Come on,” he says resting his hand on your back, pressing you to his side while he gently guides you to the car.

He opens the passenger door to his truck and helps you inside closing it firmly before walking over the driver’s side. You drive back to the house in silence.

 _John is here. I am here with him. We aren’t back there. I am safe_ , you repeat to yourself. 

You enter the house and walk straight to your room. You sit on the bed breathing in and out slowly. John knocks pulling your vacant gaze towards the doorway where he is standing.

“I need to go back to the school, but before I leave I need to know you are okay,” he says walking over to the bed. He crouches down. “Promise me you aren’t going to try anything like the night I found you,” he says gently caressing your cheek with his hand. 

You close your eyes recalling the pain. You wanted to die.

“I promise,” you say staring into his eyes. 

Hours later you hear John’s truck rumble in the driveway. The door slams and only one set of footsteps stomps up the stairs directly to your room. Dean walks in with a furious expression. He says nothing and you are unsure what happened after John took you home.  

“Thank you,” you say softly breaking the silence.

“Thank you? What is wrong with you?” he shouts.

“What? What are you talking about?” you ask confused by his anger.

“Why do you always need saving?” he says resentfully.

“Dean my parents were vampires…” you say your voice breaking.

“I know. I killed them. Remember?” he says coldly.

“I don’t have any family…” you explain defensively.

“Just because you don’t have any family doesn’t mean we are your family!” he shouts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” you shout back.

“Are you sure? You sure you weren’t asking for it? Because you certainly seem to like being saved,” he says viciously.

The world pauses and you snap, tackling Dean to the ground.

You sit on top of him grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

“You asshole. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for my parents to be turned into vampires. I didn’t ask to be trapped in that bathroom. I didn’t ask for that creep to make me touch him,” you shout in his face.

“Just always the victim then aren’t you?” Dean yells back.

“Shut up!” You scream losing control hitting him with closed fists as he protects his head. “Shut up!” you repeat hitting him over and over.

He bucks you off of him and suddenly you are flat on your back. He stands staring down at you.

“I’ll kill you,” you say clenching your hands into fists again.

“No, Darling. You aren’t going to kill me, but you are going to kill monsters. Now if you are done being a princess, I will show you how to be a hunter,” he says extending an arm towards you to help you up.

Glimpses of your entire life speed through your head as if someone is fast-forwarding to this very moment.

“Teach me,” you say reaching for his hand.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It has been three years since you dropped out of high school. John and Pastor Jim argued on Dean’s behalf but he was expelled. He never went back and neither did you. From that day on Dean spent his days training you. He taught you everything he knew about monsters. 

Vampires. Demons. Werewolves. Witches. Djinn. Ghouls.

You were inexperienced, but Dean taught you their strengths and weaknesses. He taught you how to sort through hundreds of public records and find the one violent death you needed. He taught you how to casually strike up a conversation with a local to discover the one neighborhood house that creeps everyone out. He taught you the essentials of hunting: always do your research, don’t panic and watch your partner’s back. Always.

The first hunts were hard. John watched with silent disapproval the first time you climbed into the backseat of the Impala. Dean wasn’t so lucky. At the house John would argue with Dean incessantly about you hunting. After a particularly loud shouting match, you asked Dean why he was teaching you. He told you because you didn’t have a choice. Not because your parents were gone, but because when you realized monsters existed, you couldn’t go back to living a normal apple pie life. That just wasn’t the kind of person you were.

When Dean asked you if you regretted learning you answered him honestly. It was the first time felt alive since your parents died. You obeyed their orders every time: keep watch, dig up the grave, grab the salt, hold the flashlight. Hunts passed and you learned more. You grew taller, stronger and learned to trust your instincts. The change was not only physical, but also mental. Having a purpose made you happy. You smiled more, talked more and unexpectedly became closer with Sam. The two of you talked about books, school, normal things. That is how you wished it would always be for Sam. Normal.  

Despite becoming more experienced, John still gave you an agonizing look every time you hunted, but Dean was right. Knowing what was out there, you could never go back.

Things changed between you and John after a hunt in Wisconsin. You, John and Dean were investigating a coven of housewives practicing black magic in an upper middle class suburb. After two days, you finally knew when and where they were going to be and the three of you had to decide what to do. In the early days, Dean explained witches are humans who practice magic and although he didn’t say it you could tell killing a human was a line he was reluctant to cross. The plan was to scare them into seeing reason.

Hours later Dean kicked in the door and you discovered three women chanting and holding hands in a candle lit dining room. John and Dean went in first, guns raised hauling them from their seats and pushing them against the wall. Dean lowered his gun and explained to them they needed to stop before they got themselves killed. He told them they were in over their heads. You still remember when the woman in the center broke into laughter right in the middle of his speech.

“Want to let me in on the joke Martha Stewart?” Dean said angrily.

“You aren’t going to kill us,” she said with a smile. “These are empty threats,” she laughed motioning to her sisters. “Are you really going to shoot an unarmed woman in her own home?” she taunted.

During the uproar, she didn’t notice you entering behind Dean and John. As she continued to laugh in Dean’s face, you slipped your knife from your waistband and walked slowly towards her. Her eyes widened when she saw you approach and she took a few step backwards forgetting she was already against a wall. You glared at her stopping inches from her face. You ran the tip of your knife down her throat as you leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You might be right. These men might have reservations about gunning down an unarmed woman,” you said eyes locked on Dean. “But trust me I have no such reservations,” you hissed as she stared at John. You pressed your knife against her skin just enough to draw blood. “I’ll be watching,” you said softly dragging your knife down the other side of her neck letting her feel the trail of cold steel. You turned your back on her and heard her fall to the floor, her friends screaming her name.

Since Wisconsin it has been nonstop hunting. No more training. Sometimes you, John and Dean. Sometimes just you and Dean. Never just you and John.

The summer before Sam’s senior year was his last hunt. John caught wind of a case in Oak Brook, IL. You and Dean took the Impala while Sam rode with John in his black truck. It was late afternoon when you checked into the motel room. You still remember standing around the cramped kitchenette when John finally told you what you were hunting.

“I think it’s a ghoul,” he said with a grim expression.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with his journal and a map of homes spread over the surface.

“Damnit,” Dean said slamming his fist on the table.

“I have a plan,” John said glancing around the room.

“Ghouls take the form of the last person they ate. That means they are going to keep that corpse nearby, probably in the house. We sneak in, check the house, find the corpse, put the ghoul down,” John says simply.

“It would be faster, if we split up,” you interject.

“No,” John says tersely.

“Dad …” Dean begins.

“I said No,” John shouts.

Dean’s eyes find yours and you shake your head subtly.

He swings back around to John. “When?” he asks.

“Tonight,” John answers.

“Tonight then,” Dean says as you silently nod in agreement.

Shortly after John leaves with no explanation.

You, Sam and Dean sit in silence waiting for John to return. You and Dean play cards while Sam reads on one of the beds. Your eyes dart over to Sam and you feel a pang of unease. It has been a long time since he has been on a hunt. Four hunters is more than enough for one ghoul. Two quick knocks followed by a third interrupt your thoughts.

You walk over to the eyehole and see John’s thick dark hair. After quickly unbolting the door he walks in and just says, “Let’s go,” to you, Sam and Dean.

The four of you drive together in the Impala. The house is really a mansion that sits on two acres of land. You silently head for the back of the house as John checks the doors and windows trying to find one that is unlocked. He finally finds one and eases it open with a creak.

You and Sam walk in followed by Dean. He closes the door with a soft click turning the lock. You shake your head again feeling unease unfold inside of you.  You and Dean lead while Sam and John bring up the rear. You find a stairwell leading to a basement and Dean motions for you to continue. As you, Dean and John walk down the stairs you hear Sam yell “Dad!” and then the door to the basement shut behind you with a click. “Damnit!” Dean yells as he and John pound against the door.

You ignore the pounding and continue walking down the stairs with your gun raised. You scan the room and find it empty except for two rotted corpses lying on the table. You gag and cover your mouth with your sleeve. _Fuck_ you think to yourself. John was wrong. It isn’t one ghoul, but two and now they have Sam.

 _Don’t panic_ , you tell yourself. You scan the room looking for another exit and find a small window.

“Dean,” you shout. Dean runs down the stairs while John continues pounding on the door yelling.

“There is a window. Give me a boost and I can break it. I will circle around and get Sam,” you tell him.

He looks at you with a panicked expression. “Dean! Focus!” you shout.

In seconds the two of you are shoving a table against a wall. You scan the room and find a crowbar and blanket in the corner. Holstering your gun, you grab both and turn back towards the window. John storms down the stairs and eyes the blanket and crowbar in your hand.

“Going to get Sam,” you tell him as you jump on the table.

“I am not letting you do that,” John growls.

“No ‘letting’ John. You’re too big for that window and so is Dean,” you say tossing the blanket over your shoulder and motioning towards Dean.

“Dean,” John shouts.

Dean stands frozen glancing between you and John.

You stare at Dean letting him know you can do this.

He unglues himself from where is he standing and jumps on the table. It groans under the added weight, but he brings his hands together to give you a boost. You step into his hand and smoothly bring the crowbar in an arc against the window. It shatters immediately and you toss the blanket over the broken glass lifting yourself through the window. In seconds you are outside circling back to door you entered from. You break it with your elbow and clear the shards of glass before reaching in and unlocking the door.

As you ease the door open you pause and listen. A loud thump overhead is accompanied by unintelligible shouting. You holster your gun and instead reach for your machete. You take a deep steadying breath and silently walk up the stairs. You flatten your back against the wall peeking into the bedroom. Two ghouls are bent over tying Sam to a bed. You kick the door in with a loud clang drawing their attention. You swing slicing the head clean off of the first ghoul. Sam begins thrashing against the restraints as you stalk towards the second. It tries to flee but you kick it in the back and land a downward blow. It doesn’t sever the head and you bring your machete back down over its head again and again. Pieces of ghoul splatter all over you. Eventually you drop the machete and untie Sam. He sits up in the bed holding his head in his hands. You pat his shoulder as you run downstairs and unlock the door to the basement.

Dean blows passed you screaming, “Sammy” running up the stairs. John grabs your shoulders, “Darling!” he says shaking your shoulders scanning you for injuries. “I am okay,” you tell John. He grips your arms spinning you around, “I am okay John,” you tell him as he brings your hands to his chest and you gently touch his face.

He hears Sam and Dean upstairs and says “Thank you,” pulling you to his chest and kissing your forehead before charging upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

6 months later Sam received his acceptance letter from Stanford. John and Dean had mixed reactions, but you were shamelessly excited for him. It was everything you wanted for Sam and more. After the last hunt, it was clear Sam’s heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. He came from a family of hunters, but it just wasn’t him. Your enthusiasm was infectious and eventually John and Dean accepted he was leaving and that is was for the best.

His last night in Minnesota the four of you went to a roadhouse bar for a celebratory farewell. Sam, who at this point was taller than Dean, had no trouble getting into the bar and you and Dean were practically regulars. It was part of your post hunt ritual. As the four of you sat in a booth sipping beers and taking shots the bar started to fill. When the music got louder you gave Dean the look.

“Oh no,” he said.

“Come on, Dean,” you said smiling.

He rolled his eyes as you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. In seconds you were slow dancing to a country song. The two of you swayed to the music, his hand on your hip, and your left hand on his shoulder, right hand clasped in his.

You sing along to the song before saying, “I am happy for Sam… He isn’t like us,” while watching Sam and John as Dean leads you around the dance floor.

“Yeah, I guess he isn’t,” Dean responds.

“Dean,” you say scolding him.

“What?” he answers tersely.

“I am going to tell you something you don’t want to hear,” you say with a genuine smile redirecting the conversation.

“What is it?” he asks his eyes narrowing. “Your Dad saved my life, but you made it worth living. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” you say watching couples dance passed you.

“You’re wrong,” he says abruptly.

“What?” you ask turning your head slightly staring at his profile with your eyebrows furrowed.

“You did it. All of it. All I did was push your buttons,” he says staring across the room.

You pull away from his grasp and laugh. You put your whole body into it crouching over as couples glare at you. You wipe away tears, reaching back out for his arms.

“I thought I was going to kill you,” you say against his shoulder.

“Good thing you didn’t have the right hook you have now,” he said chuckling.

“Yeah,” you say nodding remembering that day.

“What I am trying to say is you are my best friend and I love you,” you tell him.

“Well obviously,” he says with a cocky grin glancing at you.

“You are such an ass,” you laugh pushing at his chest.

“Now go dance with whoever is shooting daggers at my back,” you say rolling your eyes.

He gives you a look of confusion.

“Brunette by the bar. Check your six,” you say as Dean not so subtlety swings you around the dance floor so he can see the bar. His eyes light up.

“Go get her, handsome,” you say giving his arm a friendly pat. You watch him walk up to her and her expression completely changes.

You take a deep breath making your way to the edge of the dance floor dodging couples.

Suddenly John is in front of you giving you that half smile that makes your insides melt.

“Looked like you needed a dance partner,” he says reaching for your hand.

He pulls you close to his chest, closer than you and Dean were dancing and you left yourself relax in his arms. His hands are in the exact same spot Dean’s were but it sends shivers down your spine. He rests the side of his face against the your head and you dance in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I think you are scaring away my marriage prospects,” you tease softly.

He takes your chin in his hand angling your face towards him, “Is that what you want Darling?” he asks his voice low, a concerned expression on his face.

“John … you know I am never going to leave you,” you say in a serious tone looking at him like he is crazy.

John cups your face with both of his hands. He slowly tilts your head back and runs his warm mouth against yours, his salt and pepper beard lightly scratching at your skin. Your lips part as he gently explores your mouth. He deepens the kiss as you stand helplessly your hands gripping the hem of his shirt lost in the taste of him. When he tries to pull away you tug at his lower lip desperate for more. He strokes your cheek scanning the room before grabbing your hand, pulling you towards the exit.

The sun is just starting to set in the late summer sky. He leads you towards his black truck and kisses you roughly pressing you against the passenger side door. You wrap your arms around his neck and he lifts you off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist devouring his mouth, running your fingers through his thick hair. “Say it again,” he groans in your ear. “I’m never leaving you,” you whisper as he grabs a handful of your hair and tilts your head to the side trailing soft kisses down your neck. You shiver against him, closing your eyes grateful he has you pinned against the truck.

In the distance you hear Dean’s panicked voice. “Dad? Dad?” he shouts weaving through the cars in the parking lot.

“Shit,” you say under your breath as John sets you back on the ground. Your lips are rosy and your face is flushed. Uncertainty flits across John’s eyes.

“I won’t lie to him John,” you say seriously.

Dean skids around the black monster truck and finds you with John.

He glances at you and then at John and says, “I thought something was wrong,” with an alarmed expression.

You give Dean an anxious look.

“Dean, I am fine… I was with John,” you say. Dean looks at your face again noticing your tousled hair and rosy lips.

“I see…” is all he says.

“Dean …” John interjects taking a step forward.

“Do you love her?” Dean interrupts.

Damnit Dean, you think to yourself. You love John, but you aren't sure if this is a conversation he is ready to have right now.

“I do,” John says giving Dean a serious stare.

“Are you going to let her keep hunting?” Dean asks glaring at John.

Time slows and you turn slowly and stare at John. Dean knows how much hunting means to you and wastes no time asking the one question you aren’t sure you could. You have been in love with John for years, but you could never give up hunting. You could never chose. You look at him wide eyed waiting for his response.

“She told me once there was no ‘letting’” John says chuckling. “I got the sense it was a package deal,” he says giving you a wink.

Relief crashes through you and practically brings you to your knees. Dean stares at you intensely and you look at him desperate to know what he is thinking.

“I don’t like, but I can live with it,” he says and your heart breaks wide open as you feel sadness, relief and happiness all at once. You nod silently giving him a grateful look.

“Don’t mess this up,” he tells John angrily poking him in the chest. “I am not looking for another partner and she is the best out there,” he says squeezing your shoulder before walking away.

“I won’t,” John says gazing at you.

_Four Years Later_

**Ring. Ring.**

John’s phone pierces the silence. You shake the warm arm wrapped around your middle.

“Baby, your cell phone,” you say sleepily.

John untangles himself from you as you nestle into the warm sheets.

“Hello,” he answers gruffly.

“Hey Sam,” he says softly.

“Everything okay?” he asks. You turn over wrapping your arm around John’s middle his chest hair tickling your skin. You cuddle closer to him pressing your cheek against his back.

“Yeah, Dean mentioned it was coming up,” you hear him answer.

“That’s great, Sammy. We would love to be there. Will do. See you in a few days,” he says before setting his phone on the nightstand.

“What was that about?” you ask as he turns around pulling you to his chest. He sits you in his lap rubbing his hands up your sides grinning at you.

“Sam invited us to his graduation,” he says with a smile.

“That’s great, Baby,” you say rubbing your fingers over his lips. He flips you over as you laugh and he kisses you properly.

_Days Later_

You packed up the truck and drove to California. For the first time since Sam left, the four of you were going to be together. After he left, you and Dean continued to hunt. John opened a garage and somehow four years passed. Dean and Sam talked, but not as much. As you pulled up to the parking lot you squeezed John’s hand. He changed into a dark suit and white shirt muttering something about not wanting to embarrass Sam. He looked incredibly handsome with salt and pepper beard neatly trimmed and hair combed to the side. Sam didn’t give you much notice so you picked the [first dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498652615956/) you could find. It was a silk white floor length dress with a high waist, wide sleeves and a deep V-neck. John jumped out of the car walking over to open your door. As he helped you down, he looked at your face with a conflicted expression.

“What’s wrong?” you ask reaching for his hand.

“I don’t want to introduce you as my girlfriend,” he says watching the other families make their way to the entrance.

“John …” you start to say.

“I want to introduce you as my wife,” he says looking at you lovingly.

You shake your head closing your eyes laughing. “John come on...” you say as he slips a ring over your left ring finger.

Your eyes flutter open immediately taking in the large diamond set in rose gold. You look at him speechless.

“I will settle for fiancée,” he says lifting your chin dipping his mouth down to kiss you.

You squeeze his hand walking towards the entrance.

Dean cheered the loudest when they announced Sam’s name. When you watched him walk across the stage it was the same gawky twelve-year-old boy you remembered. Afterwards the three of you tracked him down in a sea of cap and gowns.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled with a hug and a pat on the back.

John hugged him, “Looks good on you,” he said poking his mortarboard out of place.

“Hey Sam,” you say softly reaching on your tiptoes to give him a big hug.

“There is someone I want you to meet,” Sam says motioning for someone to come over. “This is my girlfriend Jess,” he says beaming at her. She is almost as tall as Sam with long blonde hair and a warm smile.

Dean elbows Sam before extending his hand out and saying, “I’m Dean,” with a smile.

“I have heard so much about you,” she says before turning to John. “You must be John,” she says extending her hand. “And Darling, right?” she says pointing towards you. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say pulling her into a hug.

“I am going to go show Dean and John around,” Sam says smiling at Jess. “Dean’s been bugging me for the tour,” he says apologetically. “Go! We will be fine,” she says kissing him on the cheek.

You and Jess stand amongst the families taking pictures and hugging. “So how did you and Sam meet?” you ask.

The next few minutes pass as she regales you with a story of a lost Sam Winchester trying to find the library. It is so endearing and she is so friendly you can’t help but like her.

Your ring catches her eye and she smiles. “Engaged?” she asks excitedly.

“Earlier today,” you say smiling.

“Is he around? I would love to meet him,” she says glancing around the crowd.

You open your mouth and then close it again. It isn’t the first time you have had to explain your relationship with John, but you are surprised she doesn’t know. Dean told Sam right before he left for Stanford. Sam insisted he needed space to process it and you hoped time had helped.

“You actually met him,” you say deciding to take the diplomatic route. “I am engaged to John,” you say with a smile.

She has the decency to blush. “Oh my god. I am so sorry. Sam didn’t say anything. I am going to kill him,” she says the last statement more to herself.

You laugh, “Jess it is okay. I have been dating John for a while. He asked me to marry him right before the graduation. We didn’t want to tell everyone since its Sam’s day,” you say grabbing her arm reassuringly.

“Well, let me be the first to say congratulations then,” she says with a bright smile. “I may still kill Sam though,” she laughs. “Speaking of, I should go make sure they are doing alright. Want to come with?” she asks.

“I am actually going to go freshen up a minute. I will catch up with you,” you tell her.

The ladies room is packed with mothers and sisters. Fifteen minutes later you walk back to where you were standing and look around for the others.

“Your dress is beautiful,” a voice says to your right.

“Thank you,” you say smiling to three middle aged women.

“Mmmm. Will you look at that?” one of the women interjects. It takes you a few minutes to realize they are talking about John.

“I heard he is a widower. I wonder if he is lonely,” the second says suggestively.

You clench your jaw just as John turns towards your direction.

“He is coming this way,” one of them purrs.

John walks over lazily holding a glass of champagne. “Ladies,” he says acknowledging the group of women. You smile at him sharing a knowing glance. “Can I steal my future wife back?” he says with a grin placing his hand on your lower back. They stand stunned and you close your eyes trying to hold back your laughter.

“Down girl,” he growls in your ear. “I thought you were going to stab one of them,” he whispers.

“I left my knives at home,” you tell him with a smile.

“That’s a shame. Don’t worry Darling, I am never leaving you,” he whispers in your ear as you walk back towards Jess, Sam and Dean.

You smile at him thinking forever isn’t long enough.


End file.
